


I’m Freaking Out, and I Feel Fine

by TheCreativeCasseroles



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, DC Animated Universe (Timmverse)
Genre: Dimension Travel, Mistaken Identity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other additional characters to be added, Time Travel, Universe Travel, it’s all kind of the same thing, tagging as it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23531725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreativeCasseroles/pseuds/TheCreativeCasseroles
Summary: Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne. Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.Terry McGinnis is not Bruce Wayne, but why are all these people convinced otherwise?
Comments: 90
Kudos: 329





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyy, here’s a new fic of mine!
> 
> Hahahahahahah ahhhhhhh yeah no I’m sorry that I’m not updating my other fics. Procrastination and the lack of ideas of *how* to get it how I want is just kicking my butt. Anyway, I’m sure as you all know, I love Batman Beyond. And I love stories featuring Terry meeting the Batfam. And since not a lot of people are writing those stories I just kinda get it out there.
> 
> (And ya know. Kinda hoping this will get people to find ways to watch Batman Beyond. I mean, it’s a cyberpunk future made back in the late 90’s! Who doesn’t love that?)
> 
> Hope you enjoy the story!

A swelling of student bodies flooded out of a high school in Gotham. Teenagers from the ages of as young as the child thirteen to the adult eighteen occupied the crowd. It was noon and school was done for the summer. Or at least for those who were graduating in two weeks time. Students who’re to stay would be back on that Monday morning.

Students who were able to drive got into their cars, while others walked or took another form of transportation. Some of the rare lucky ones got into a hover car. A few would get into old, but loved, cars that had been clearly used by previous owners.

A black haired teen was one of those who weren't going into a car. In fact, he was walking with another teen around his age. His arm was around her shoulders as they laughed at a joke.

Things became a little more somber as the girl asked, “are you sure we can’t get together tonight?”

The taller teen sighed. “Sorry Dana, but Mr. Wayne really wants me to attend this gala with him. Apparently since the theme is basically ‘old school’, he wants me to see what it was like. ‘Education’ he said.”

Dana raised an eyebrow at this. “Really, Terry? He wants you to go to a _gala_ of all places?” He could hear the disbelief in her voice.

“I know, I know. This is something he wanted to share with me. Been teaching me all sorts of stuff in order to prepare me for this.”

At this Dana pulled away from Terry.

Her brown eyes stared into his blue ones. “Terry. I’d hate to say this, but… this isn’t normal.”

Terry furrowed his eyebrows, not really getting what she was saying. “What do you mean?” He asked.

Sure, she’d said this before, back when he started working for his current employer roughly three years prior. After all, he was called away all the time then. Now, it was a bit more lenient. But this situation was a bit different in context.

Dana huffed. “I mean that bosses don’t normally bring their employees to galas.”

“He needs someone to help him in case of an emergency. You know he has a heart problem Dana.”

At this she pursed her lips. “This is true, but I’m telling you. This isn’t normal.”

Terry could only shrug. There wasn’t much he could tell her.

They were quiet for a moment… and then…

“Hey Ter?” Dana asked.

“Yeah?”

She paused, as if not sure if she should continue. Terry was curious about what she had to say. But then she shook her head.

“It’s nothing.” She said before going up to kiss him on the cheek. “Just be safe okay? Gotham has a history of Galas Gone Wrong.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” Dana says as she wraps her arms around him, “but I sometimes can’t help but worry you know?”

Wrapping his own arms around her, Terry hugged her close. “I know.” He then kisses the top of her head.

Together they held each other for a few moments. Slowly, he pulled away. “I gotta go now. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

They shared one more kiss before he left.

He had work to do.

* * *

The gala was in full swing, and Terry had made sure that he had gotten his boss in at an appropriate time. After all, it wouldn’t do to have Bruce Wayne be late at a gala. Especially since the company was all his again.

“Still can’t believe you let me wear this suit.” Terry muttered as he fiddled with his cufflinks. He stopped a moment to look down at the very expensive, very old watch that sat snug on his wrist. “And the watch too.”

They were slowly making their way through the ballroom, greeting the other attendees that came to them. The duo themselves never approached anyone. And at the moment, they were alone.

It was odd. Mr. Wayne had only set the suit and the watch down in Terry’s ‘room’ and said nothing. So what else was Terry to do but put them on? Then afterwards the man even styled his hair for him. Again, very odd.

“This suit fits you more.” Bruce’s voice slowly rumbled. “You’ve grown.”

He had. Being Batman built some muscles after all. And of course he had gotten a little taller too. But because of this, he wasn’t able to fit in the suit that he was able to borrow for his friend’s parents wedding.

The whole party was dressed as if they were from the 80’s. The gala _was_ ‘classic’ themed. In fact, it felt like an old black and white photo that had come to life. Full of color. Music that hadn’t been played since Bruce was teen himself was dancing around the attendees. If Terry looked outside, he wouldn’t be surprised to see shorter buildings and police blimps in the sky. Or if crime started acting up, he would hear the sounds of Tommy guns being shot.

(Terry remembered the conversation with Commissioner Gordon about the guns. Went out with the capes she had told him. That was when she had bought him coffee, and talked about her time as Batgirl. Terry knew that they stopped manufacturing the Tommy guns earlier than that. He was impressed how long they’ve stayed for, however. Although considering the recent discoveries with technology, and that included weaponry, it wouldn’t have been long before they got left behind anyways. As for the capes going out of style? Even if Gotham hadn’t had a hero for twenty years, it didn’t mean the rest of the world no longer had any either.)

Either way, it was due to the fact that how the gala was themed that Terry wasn’t able to wear his own suit. And a suit without a lapel hadn’t been mainstream until 2030. Way too late for a ‘vintage gala.’

“That doesn’t answer the question about the watch.” Terry mumbled.

Bruce… said nothing.

Terry sighed. If Bruce wasn’t going to say anything, then Terry might as well get to work.

When he had told Dana that Bruce wanted Terry to go with him for ‘education’ purposes, he wasn’t lying. It was just, his education was a tad different than learning how Gotham Galas used to be. No, it was a bit more… like recon.

What Terry was to do, was observe the guest in a way that no one noticed that he was doing so. Pick up conversations and get an idea on who’s who as well as their statuses were. He was able to do research beforehand, but due to the limited amount of time he was given, since it was sprung up on him suddenly and without warning, Terry wasn’t able to do much of that.

So. Terry began to observe.

Tall man who looked to be in his sixties. Terry instantly recognized him as a higher up at his mother’s workplace. They only met once, so he would be surprised if the man even remembered him. To be fair Terry didn’t remember the man’s name either.

Anyways, Astro-Tech was a good investment. Perhaps due to the man’s status as a long time, respected, researcher he was able to attend the gala. His suit was probably from his younger years, but more than likely tailored to fit him now that he was older.

(A bit like Bruce in that regard. The man didn’t even go to a tailor to get a whole new suit. Just had one of his older ones hemmed and whatnot to fit him now.)

He was talking to a clearly younger woman. Her height was exaggerated due to her high heels. They weren’t even the correct type for the party. Her dress looked like something that came out of the 20’s. Clearly she didn’t get the memo of what decade she should follow along with.

The way their arms interlocked and the looks they were shooting at each other, it was clear they were not related.

A flash of a sparkle.

Yep. Engaged.

Turning his sights otherways, he found a younger, closer in age, couple.

Again, he was able to recognize them. Or at least one of them. The wife was a board member over at FoxTecha where he saved her from Inque two months prior. (Hopefully this time Inque would stay put. But it was Gotham. Hardly anyone really stays put.)

They were chatting with a single, elderly woman. She was older than Bruce, but wasn’t in need of a cane. Not to mention that she looked incredibly great for her age. Her own outfit and hairstyle was probably the most accurate out of everyone at the whole gala.

Well, everyone besides Bruce and himself.

“My, you’re rather dashing.” A woman, more likely to be in her fifties, said to Terry, effectively bringing him back to his immediate surroundings.

Oh Mr. Wayne was definitely going to take points out for that. Terry hadn’t even noticed her approach.

Nonetheless, Terry was surprised at her sudden appearance. And the fact that she had clearly spoken to him. Literally no one else even bothered to say a single word to him. Sure they looked at him, but mainly spoke to Bruce.

He briefly wondered if the fact he was in juvie when he was younger was being spread around the higher circles. It wasn’t a secret that Bruce had a young personal assistant. He hoped that no one decided to dig for info on him and his family.

“Thank you.” Terry gave her a polite smile. What else could he do? “You look rather beautiful yourself.”

And she did. Her dress looked like it was from the 40’s, but was probably a vintage one from the 80’s. It fitted her well. Anything from the 40’s would have been extremely hard to come by in actual good condition. Even for rich people. Although, if Terry remembered correctly, a lot of styles from the 40’s and even 50’s really stayed strong well into the 90’s. It was probably around 1999 or even 2000 that fashion really moved forward.

(Lana Lang was more than likely the influence for that. Chelsea, when she had found out that Lana was retiring, had cried at the loss of such a ‘wonderful fashionist.’ At the time Terry didn’t even know who she was. He said so and ended up getting a lecture about the life of Lana Lang. Both Dana and Max didn’t help him escape.)

So. More likely than not that it was a dress from the 80’s that kept the 40’s style. More accessible. Since she was in her fifties or so, then it could be she was old money like Bruce Wayne.

Or she could have married into the life.

A quick glance to her hand revealed no ring. Question was if she really wasn’t married, or if she was hiding a ring. There was also the other possibility that she rose to the top by herself.

The woman turned her hazel eyes over to Mr. Wayne. “He certainly knows how to make a woman feel young.”

Terry… couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

“My assistant here isn’t the best with his words, I admit.” Bruce said, gentle old man persona in place. Traitor.

He thought he did well.

Trying not to blush, Terry spoke up. “I’m sorry if I insulted you. I’m a bit nervous to be here if I’m being honest.” A flash of an apologetic smile never hurt anyone. Nonetheless it was a gamble for exposing himself like that.

Mr. Wayne had told him plenty of stories about how and why interacting with the upper class was like playing a game of poker. Of course watching old movies was a help as well.

Dainty, low, laughter escaped from the woman. A strand of brownish red hair slipped from its place to her forehead. Even hairspray couldn’t keep the curls in place. “It’s all right. Us old folks do love to tease.” Oh so that’s what that was. “First time I presume?”

“Well… I’m not quite sure if it was even a proper gala…” he easily trailed off. He actually wasn’t quite sure if he should tell her.

Bruce sighed, coming to Terry’s rescue. “He was there when the Joker attacked.” Tiredness crept into him as he had spoken. Terry knew that the old man didn’t have to act that.

Her eyes widened. “Oh dear. I wasn’t there, but I remember seeing it on the news.” Turning to Terry, she spoke with a sympathetic tone of voice. “I’m truly sorry you had to experience that. I hope you know that not everything is like that. Although, I do admit that was… certainly a surprise.”

Shaking his head, he turned his face into that of bittersweetness. “No one knew. How were we supposed to know if no one knew at all?”

Something like approval shone in her eyes. “No. No we did not.” She then shook her head in turn.

“But that’s neither here nor there.” She continued, looking straight at him. “I actually came here to ask a favor.”

Terry couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “I’m sorry, but why?”

Why would she want a favor? And from him?

Softly, she sighed. “It’s my aunt. She had demanded to come to the gala in order to dance with Bruce Wayne.”

“Oh, Lori Bishop wouldn’t happen to be your aunt would she?” Bruce suddenly asked.

The woman gave a solemn nod.

Lori Bishop, Lori Bishop… unfortunately that didn’t ring any bells in the teen’s mind.

“I’m sorry,” he interjected, “but could someone tell me what’s going on?”

The older woman gave him a pitting look. “My aunt, Lori Bishop, was a famous model for lady’s undergarments back in the day.”

Heat rose up to dust his face red. “Oh.”

This seemed to amuse her as glossy nude lips smirked. “Yes, well, she was quite the figure in pushing for women's body rights. A quote of hers was ‘if a man can show his top, why not a woman?’ Very controversial, she was.” Her smirk then turned into a frown. “Unfortunately these days, time hasn’t been so kind to her.”

She then turned to the woman Terry had been observing earlier. “She might look like she’s doing fine, but her mind… I’m afraid Alzheimer's took a hold recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear.” Both Terry and Mr. Wayne said at the same time.

Turning back to them, she looked at Terry. “As I said, she insisted on coming tonight. We couldn’t exactly stop her. Really, my aunt can be a force to be reckoned with when she wants to be.” She sighed. “Because of this, I’m afraid she took one look at you and thinks… well, that you’re Bruce Wayne.”

A jolt of shock ran through Terry to say the least. Him? Bruce Wayne?

The old man hummed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole gala is making her relive one of her memories.”

Two pairs of blue eyes locked on each other. One with questions while answers were held in the other’s. “I was your age when I first met Lori. We both attended a gala much like this one when she came up to me to ask for a dance. We danced. Other than that, that was pretty much the most of our interaction that night.”

The young man nodded, taking the answer at face value. But why did she think he was Bruce?

“Well,” Terry started, slowly, “I’m not terrible at the Waltz, but that’s pretty much it.”

“So you’ll dance with her?” A perfect eyebrow rose.

He wasn’t going to say _no._ He wasn’t sure if he even had the freedom. Besides, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like, watching a loved one’s mind slowly fade away. Hell, he couldn’t even imagine something like that happening to Bruce.

(He wasn’t particularly religious, but being raised in a pretty Christen society made him make a quick prayer. Just in case.)

“I will.” He then turned back to his boss. “Should I let her come over or…?”

He heard it before he saw it, the sound of high heels getting closer to them. Even with the sounds of soft chatter and music floating about, he was able to hear it. Almost as if the person _wanted_ to be heard.

A quick glance showed that it was the woman of the hour. Lori Bishop really didn’t waste any time did she.

Her own piercing green eyes were locked right on him. She was walking with a purpose, and if Terry was being honest, he felt like he was some sort of prey animal. Lori looked very, _very_ determined. And if her niece had said nothing but truths, then she was wanting a dance with ‘Bruce Wayne.’

It was a shame that he wasn’t Bruce.

Well taken care of white hair was practically flowing behind her, even as she stopped in front of him. A red smile emphasized the laugh lines that were engraved on her face. Again, Terry could tell she was older than Bruce, but it was clearer that time was kinder to her than his employer. At least, physically if her niece was correct about the Alzheimer’s.

To be fair, however, she was a model while Bruce was the literal goddamned Batman. Hero work does a number on the body.

A well manicured hand was held out. “Lori. Lori Bishop.” Her voice did not waver. She was a powerful woman, and she knew it. Even if she didn’t know him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lori’s niece mouth the words ‘play along.’ Out of the corner of his other eye, he saw Mr. Wayne gave his slight nod of approval.

Immediately Terry felt the pressure. He didn’t know what Bruce was like when he was his age. Hell, he didn’t really know what Bruce was like when he was younger in general. He just hoped he didn’t mess up enough to make a scene.

Nerves wanted him to tell her that it was all a mistake, that he wasn’t Bruce Wayne. Unfortunately it wouldn’t go well. Terry knew about Alzheimer’s enough that it would only hurt Lori more if he ripped her reality right from her.

So. He had to just act. He can do that. Terry could pretend to be Bruce Wayne for this woman. And then shed the role when it was all said and done.

Smile forming upon his face, Terry took her hand in a gentle handshake.

“Bruce. Bruce Wayne. It’s a pleasure to meet you Lori.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” She took her hand away. “It’s rather surprising you know.”

“Oh?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Her smile turned quite coy. “That you’re here and no one has asked you to dance yet.”

Well, it might have to do with the fact that he was only Bruce Wayne’s personal assistant. But what would be a good ‘young Bruce Wayne’ statement?

Again, out of the corner of his eye, he saw how Bruce and Ms. Bishop’s niece moved off to the side. They both watch the interaction. Watching to see how Terry would do. Something like hope was in the woman’s eyes.

“I’m sure they all have better dance partners than I could ever be.” He settled on.

Low chuckles emanated from Lori. Just the sound of them reminded him of her niece’s laughter from earlier. If the facial structure of their cheekbones weren’t enough to strike a resemblance between the two, it was the laughter. “Oh I doubt that. Care for a dance?”

There it was. The question they’ve been waiting for.

“As long as you don’t mind me stepping on your toes.” Terry tried for humor, letting it lace his words. “I apologize in advance if I do end up stepping on your toes.”

Amusement twinkled across her eyes. “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that Mr. Wayne.”

“Please,” he began as he held out his arm to her, “call me Bruce.”

She easily took it. “Then call me Lori. None of that ‘Ms. Bishop’ nonsense.”

“Alright then Lori. Let’s dance.”

Together the duo made it over to the dance floor. Multiple couples were swaying their way across as others practically glided. Terry himself felt nervous. He hadn’t really danced at a gala before. It felt like ages since the last time he went out with Dana to a club and let loose. Not to mention the only type of ‘slow dancing’ he got to do with Dana during school dances were just the ‘hold close and sway side to side.’ Well, for most of the school dances.

If anything he should be thankful that Bruce decided to call in the Commissioner over for a favor to help teach Terry how to do the Waltz a few months back. That was certainly an awkward moment in his life. But, it was better than nothing. It certainly helped him out when Prom night came around.

Lori’s high heels made her taller than Terry, so it felt a little strange as they were getting into place. Yet as they began their dance to the beat of the music, it felt natural. Internally keeping up with the steps certainly helped.

They didn’t really talk as they danced. For a moment, Terry wondered if that’s what had happened all those years ago. He for sure had no idea what to say, but it wasn’t hard to imagine Bruce not really wanting to talk. Although the image of a young Bruce Wayne being flustered with dancing with an underwear model made him want to chuckle.

That was until he remembered that _he_ was dancing with a former underwear model.

He really had to fight that blush that wanted to burn his face to ashes.

As he danced, he used this opportunity to continue his observation of the guests. Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see them glance over to him and his dance partner. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were curious as to why she was dancing with him. He was a nobody after all.

Although he did catch his mom’s higher up look at him with surprise. Maybe the man did remember him after all.

If people weren’t staring at them, they were just plain ignoring them. Which was fine. When everything was said and done, he had a feeling that he would be gossip fuel for a while.

It went on like that for a few more minutes. Thankfully the whole time he didn’t even make a fool of himself.

Point for Terry McGinnis.

Once the song ended, Terry gave the older woman a final smile. “Thank you for the dance.”

“It’s no problem at all Bruce. And you weren’t that half bad of a dancer.”

“I could say the same.”

Once again, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mr. Wayne watch him with his hawk eyes. He could tell the man wanted him over.

The dance was done. He filled the request. He could leave.

Turning his head more, he made an act of looking for someone, settling on his boss. He then looked back at Ms. Bishop to give her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave you.”

She hummed. Her own eyes glanced over at Mr. Wayne’s direction. “I suppose that’s what we all have to do.” She then gave Terry another smile. “It’s been fun. I hope we bump into each other sooner rather than later, Bruce.”

“It would. I hope you have a good night Lori.”

“And you, too, Bruce.”

With that, the two went their separate ways.

Making a beeline over to Mr. Wayne, Terry couldn’t help but still wonder. Why him? He heard how those with Alzheimer’s would sometimes think someone was another person. But he thought that was usually with people who resembled someone from their memories.

Did he really look like a young Bruce Wayne?

As he made his way back to his boss, he caught a glimpse of a small dome. Curious, Terry stopped for a brief moment to get a better look.

There, not that far from where he was standing, was a person wearing what looked like an old pulp sci-fi astronaut’s suit. Complete with a fake ‘futuristic’ gun. Their… fishbowl dome of a helmet was tinted. He bet that even if he got nose to helmet, he couldn’t even see inside.

It was incredibly odd. Although it was very clear how wrong the person thought the theme was. More so that woman with the mixed era’s outfit.

Clearly the person came late, as Terry was sure he never saw them until that point. And if they came late, why? One part of the exercise was to find these things out.

Suddenly the person started to walk towards him at a fast pace.

Uh oh. He was caught staring. Minus one point for Terry McGinnis.

Mentally preparing to apologize, Terry fully faced the person. They probably had a bad day with being late and were essentially wearing the wrong costume. Add in the fact that they were more than likely had enough money to try to ruin his family’s life, Terry most certainly had to keep any guests in a happy mood. It also didn’t hurt for him to be in their good graces long enough to figure out anything they were doing illegal and then take them to prison as Batman.

But, just as Terry opened his mouth, the person roughly grabbed his wrist.

“I found you,” they, he?, said with a raspy, low voice. “You can’t escape from me this time Bruce.”

Wait what.

Despite the wrong name, warning bells rang throughout Terry’s whole being. Who was this person? It was clear that they were more likely than not a new villain on the block.

Should he try to make a scene or not? If he made a scene people could get hurt. If he didn’t…

“Excuse me sir,” a poor, hapless, waiter intervened, tapping on the spaceman’s shoulder, “but we have a strict ‘no guns allowed’ policy. Even if they’re fake.”

Well fuck.

His captor whipped their upper body to the waiter. Terry’s arm was yanked as the probably not actually fake gun was suddenly pointed to the waiter’s head.

“This isn’t a fake gun.” The man growled.

Instantly the waiter paled.

Someone screamed.

“QUIET!” Spaceman roared.

Complete, and utter silence. Even the live band stopped.

“Now…” he began, “I want absolutely no interference. No calling the cops, and no one playing hero.”

There was a pause for effect. “If you do, I’ll kill someone. Not quite sure who, but someone. I just might be you.” He said that last bit to the waiter.

Internally Terry cursed. Okay. So. He needed to find out who this person was, why he was called Bruce, and well, _what_ this person wanted. And if he could, resolve this with no deaths.

“Now,” Spaceman turned back to Terry. “What I want _you_ to do, is come with me.”

Blink. Jerk back. What?

“What?” He couldn’t help but say.

The grip on his wrist grew tighter. “I said. Come with _me._ ”

Oh great. He was the hostage. Wait. _Shit._

Mr. Spaceman let go of Terry’s hand. The other still trained the gun to the waiter. Terry didn’t dare to move a muscle.

Now with a free hand, Spaceman reached into a pocket… and pulled out old fashioned handcuffs. Terry stared at them. He let himself get cuffed. What else could he do? He… he couldn’t fight back. Even if everyone knew that Terry McGinnis was a bad kid, that he knew how to fight, the risk of someone’s life coming to an end wasn’t worth it.

He would get away later. If he couldn’t then Bruce would find him.

“Listen up!” Spaceman shouted. “I expect no one try to follow us. Because you won’t. And I promise you, you won’t _find_ us.”

Oh god.

His kidnapper leaned ever closer to Terry. A black reflection of his own fearful expression was facing back. He saw the image of Bruce standing too far away. His eyes were wide. He was scared.

Bruce was scared.

“You.” The kidnapper hissed with so much venom. “Are never _leaving_ me. I promise you this Bruce Wayne.”

Oh God.

Crackling, sizzling, a **zap**.

The gun had shot off.

_Oh God._

A whirling… _portal_ of some sort formed into existence.

Automatically, Terry turned his head to Bruce. Their eyes connected. Fear gripped them both.

**_Oh God._ **

He was yanked into the portal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyoooo. Here’s the next chapter! Personally, I wanted to add more to it, but I promised myself that I would update at least 3 different fics with one new chapter. Might as well get what I got out right? Anyway, here’s the chapter! Hope you enjoy it!

Pushed, pulled. Stretched, compressed. Being tossed around like a rag doll. So… many _colors._ Everything was too loud. Everything was too quiet. He was floating away from his body. He was all too heavy.

Freezing. Burning.

It lasted an eternity. It lasted mere seconds.

Nothing.

His feet landed on a hard floor. His knees buckled. He was being held up.

Terry felt like he was going to vomit.

His… ears were ringing? His vision was blurry?

A muffled shout. It got louder and louder. Until something a bit more coherent was heard.

Someone was shaking him. He was still being held up.

“…ont you dare take him from me! Do you know how long it took for me to take him?! To _find_ him?!” It… it was the kidnapper. “I _will_ have Bruce Wayne and none of you will stop me!”

He thinks he blacked out a moment.

A rough shake jump started his brain. Disgusting bubbling within his stomach made him moan.

His vision started to clear a bit… and he… he was still at the gala?

What?

Hands holding him up. Holding him close?

Blink.

He was away from Spaceman.

Blink.

Someone was fighting Spaceman.

Blink.

His eyes rolled. They caught something…

Policemen? Costumed people tied up?

Blink.

A scared woman’s face. Something familiar wriggled in his brain… she was… he knew her… what?

“Lori?” He rasped.

A shift. He was still looking at her. Her hair was not as white before… more blonde… and her dress… it was different… her wrinkles were gone… he could tell she was still Lori.

Someone spoke.

“Hey.” They said again. It registered that it sounded altered. And that it was coming from whoever was holding him.

It felt hard to move his head up. It lolled if anything.

His eyes met red. Bright red. A bright red helmet?

“Who’s Lori?” The distorted voice asked.

“Lori?” He repeated. “I… danced with… her…”

His voice was slurred. He felt exhausted.

He still felt like he needed to puke.

“Before… taken. Through… portal?” Everything was starting to swim again.

“Bruce!” Spaceman’s voice was further away.

Was he being carried? When did that happen?

“Look different…” he mumbled as his eyes fluttered. “She look different…”

“Who?” That was a different voice.

His eyes wouldn’t open.

“Lori… Bishop…”

He thinks he threw up.

He didn’t hear anything after that. He didn’t see anything after that.

* * *

Terry slowly came to feeling… comfortable. A little disoriented, but comfortable.

Groaning he cracked an eye open. A ceiling. A dark red ceiling.

Up ever so slowly. Sit in the very comfy bed. Look around.

The bed he was in was large. Larger than he really needed. Four or even five grown adults could sleep comfortably in it. It had grand posters that were engraved, reaching upward in its extravagants. Touching the sheets in between his fingers, he felt how incredibly smooth they were. Silk. Internally he hoped he didn’t sweat at all. Silk and sweaty skin didn’t really go well together. But since he didn’t have to peel himself off while sitting up, he would have to assume he was in the clear.

The room he was in was dark, but not too dark. Just enough for him to know that it was bright enough outside to have lightened up the room. The, probably silken as well, curtains were closed as that had caused the room to be dark in the first place, but small slivers of daylight filtered through.

Blue eyes avoided the light. Never was it fun to get temporarily blinded by a drastic change of lighting.

There was a digital alarm clock that blared the time one thirty seven pm in bright red numbers on a nightstand next to the bed. It was odd, and old. Something that looked like it belonged to an antique store. The more he looked at it, the more it looked an awful lot like the first digital alarm clocks to be made. All bulky and made with wooden panels that were thought to actually look good.

Looking at the furniture, with its dark colors and elegant features, slow realization grew of how much it looked like a room back at Bruce’s manor… one that he couldn’t quite pinpoint down.

But how did he get back at the manor? Was he even at Wayne Manor?

He was at the gala last night when… when…

Like a train hitting him, Terry remembered about the kidnapper. The fucking Spaceman.

Scrambling out of bed, he ran right towards the door. He needed to make sure…

Ripping it open he _was_ met with Wayne Manor’s hallway.

 _Why_ was he in the manor? He was kidnapped… and then… and then…

Someone with a red helmet saved him?

There were a few options. Either the red helmeted person was a new vigilante that decided to do a big entrance since Batman wasn’t there, a vigilante from another place that he haven’t heard of and happened to be in Gotham, or maybe someone from Bruce’s past.

Terry wouldn’t be _too_ surprised if it was the last option.

Although it would’ve been nice if the Red Helmet dropped him off at his house. Or maybe a hospital.

Taking a glance down to one of his scars peeking out of his sleeve made him reconsider those thoughts. Didn’t need to have his mom freak out over it.

Wait a second.

“These aren’t my pajamas.” Terry mumbled in confusion.

Red and black plaid pants, and a super faded band T-shirt. Taking a closer look with squinted eyes, he tried to figure the band out.

“The… Eagles?” He muttered. He knew for a fact he didn’t own that shirt. He _doubted_ that it belonged to Bruce back in his younger years. Very highly in fact. Maybe it was DG’s?

He shook his head. Something odd was going on. And he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Softly the door closed. Quietly his feet padded across the wooden floor. He had to find Bruce.

As he walked, however, he began to notice more… odd things. Some paintings have been covered up when they shouldn’t be and vice versa. And there were obvious places where paintings were taken down entirely. Not to mention the same was said for the furniture.

It wasn’t _as_ dusty as it should be. Sure Terry has been helping Bruce clean the place, but it was a big building. Dust likes to linger.

And then he heard it. Voices. They were coming from the living room that was used the most. After all, it was always convenient to use that one from the others. It was cozy. It had a fireplace.

It had the portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Very faintly he heard words.

“-what if this is permanent?”

“It’s not. It isn’t. We… We’ll find a way.”

“He’ll be back to normal as soon as we…”

Slowly Terry crept closer. Unfortunately for him, he had stepped on what could have been _the_ **_loudest_ ** squeaky floorboard to have _ever_ existed.

The voices stopped abruptly.

Lord just kill him now.

Well, time to face the music.

Stepping out of the hallway, and into the room, Terry was greeted-

With a family?

There was an old man wearing an old fashioned suit a butler would wear. A thin man he was, with a balding head, and a mustache that was as gray as the hair left on his head. His eyes were… old if that were a thing. It definitely looked kind, and the shade of blue reminded Terry of the ocean during summer. He was standing attentively by the big chair that Bruce would normally sit in. His hands we behind his back and everything.

The tallest of the bunch was another man, but he was probably only a few years older than Terry himself. That one was standing by the fireplace with his arms crossed. In fact, the fire that, for some odd reason, was lit, managed to make his eyes look like they could be teal. It certainly helped bring out the brown undertones of his messy black hair out. Actually it looked a lot like Terry’s hair did whenever he was running his hands through it about a hundred times out of stress.

(Terry would admit to being a little envious when he saw the man wearing a leather jacket in great condition. Ah leather. A punk kid’s best friend. Pleather just doesn’t cut it in a fight.)

Another man, who was sitting in one of the couches, looked to be probably somewhere in his late twenties. Terry mentality snorted at catching sight of the Superman t-shirt he was wearing. He looked more tan than… his brother? Yeah, his brother, and his own eyes were a surprisingly bright shade of blue. His hair was a messy black as well.

The only girl was sitting next to him. She looked to be of Asian descent, and her eyes were a rich brown, not unlike his own girlfriend’s eyes. Her own black hair was cut into a short bob. She looked like she just came back from a workout, towel around her neck and all. 

(Terry wouldn’t be surprised if either all the siblings were half siblings or just flat out adopted.)

Standing behind the two was a teen possibly a little younger than Terry. He was very pale, with paler blue eyes that nearly looked gray. He, too, has black hair. It was apparently quite the family trait. And he was wearing… Actually he was wearing what possibly looked like the most comfortable hoodie sweatshirt. Terry got a little envious. Where could he get a hoodie like that? He and Dana could just snuggle in those sweatshirts and wouldn’t need a blanket.

Wait no he had to stop fantasizing about the hoodies. But he’ll ask about them another time.

And there, sitting on the rug with Ace was… Matt?

Eye wide with shock, Terry nearly stumbled backwards at the sight, but held himself. Green eyes locked onto blue.

Wait.

Green?

Taking a closer look, Terry realized that no, this boy was not in fact his little brother. His hair was shorter, his skin was darker, darker than the man with the tan, and his eyes were _green._

A familiar green that Terry just _couldn’t_ place. Just where in the world has he seen such similar eyes?

And the dog. Terry just took a quick glance and he knew that the dog wasn’t Ace. He didn’t have that slightest hint of gray on his muzzle.

(Neither Bruce nor Terry actually knew how old Ace was. And Terry wasn’t sure if dogs could go gray early due to stress. Ace certainly had plenty of stress in his life, that’s for sure.)

Who were these people? Where was Bruce? Where was Ace?

Settling back on the youngest, he saw a fearsome scowl that could rival the old man’s when he was in the worst of moods. Someone was _clearly_ not having a good time.

Well, neither was Terry.

“What?” The child barked. With a slightly British accent? Huh. Unexpected, but okay.

Blinking rapidly, Terry came back to himself. Right. Random people in the manor.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head a little, putting a hand up to its side, “look, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but who are all of you, and why are you here.”

He totally didn’t miss how everyone in the room tensed up for a moment.

“Well,” the man wearing the Superman shirt started, “how much do you remember?”

He then winced after he finished that sentence. And then got smacked on the head by his younger brother.

And Terry? He crossed his arms and sent the man an unimpressed look.

The man winced again.

Now, internally Terry preened at that. He was practicing Bruce’s look. That man could make you feel ashamed for just about anything.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” Terry said, voice as dry as a desert.

Again, the man flinched.

“What he means,” a voice piped up, “is what do you remember from last night?”

It was the man by the fireplace. His face was blank. He was staring right at Terry. Searching. For what, Terry didn’t know. But for a moment, the teen felt like he was back on the streets with Charlie. Sizing an opponent up, seeing if Terry would win.

Terry could play the long game.

“I was at a gala last night,” he began, slowly, “when Lori Bishop came up to me and asked for a dance. We danced. Then, as I was heading back to where I was before, some… guy wearing a fake spacesuit and what was apparently a real gun, kidnapped me.”

He then shook his head. “It was weird, he shot it and… I don’t really know how to describe it other than… well, than a portal. And he dragged me… _through_ it.”

Memories of being inside… _whatever_ it was rolled over him. Just thinking about it made him feel nauseous. Maybe that was why the guy’s helmet was tinted.

“God it was so strange. It… I don’t think I could describe it.” The more he thought about it, the more sick he felt. The way the colors were, the sensation of movement.

He didn’t know he was swaying until someone grabbed a hold of him. He didn’t know his eyes were closed until he opened them to see the man from the couch was the one holding him. It took another second to realize that he began sweating.

Ew.

Well, at least he now knew that the Superman fan was a little taller than he was.

“Come on,” the man said, “let’s sit down.”

Not arguing, Terry let himself be led to Bruce’s big chair.

The chair itself was a very nice chair. It looked soft, comfortable… expensive. Terry never actually sat in it, but he would watch how his boss would sink into it. Would it be surprising if the chair was good for those old bones? Not really.

It certainly _felt_ very soft and comfortable as he was being set down.

In fact, Terry felt like he was going to be swallowed by it if he wasn’t careful.

So he was careful in his endeavor not to be sucked into the chair as he let himself stabilize. He should just forget about the whole portal portion of his night. He just might vomit if he won’t stop.

Actually no. He _would_ vomit. No ‘might’ about it.

As he sat there, Terry began his breathing exercises. Bruce had taught him it back during those first few months as Batman in order to ‘help him think clearly.’ It was totally a ploy to try to keep his anger in check, but Terry managed to find it useful for whenever he got sick to his stomach. Or, well, when he just felt nauseous as hell.

A few moments later, he was starting to feel better. And he was well aware of the fact that everyone was staring at him.

“I’m fine.” He croaked, voice betraying him. God damn it.

Someone snorted. He didn’t know who it was. But with a quick glance, he saw that the hoodie kid was glaring at the man over by the fireplace.

Superman fan shook his head, and stood attentively at the side of the chair. He then turned his attention back to Terry and asked, “what happened after that? When you got out of the portal?”

It was nice to know that he was somewhat believed in.

Terry shrugged. “Hard to say. I think I was on the verge of blacking out the whole time until I actually did.” He then put his hand to his head, rubbing his temples. “I think we didn’t actually go anywhere? We were still at the gala, so maybe that portal was some sort of trick to disorientate me? It worked if that’s the case. But I think the police was there, and my kidnapper even said _not_ to call the police.”

He heavily sighed. “I don’t know if what I saw was actually real or not. I mean, I sure would’ve known if anyone was wearing _costumes_ to last night’s gala. Well, anyone invited anyways.”

Shaking his head, he tried to remember what happened after that. “I think someone managed to get me away? I think I saw Lori again, but I’m not even sure it was her. And I think I might’ve thrown up on someone wearing a red helmet.”

Soft clanking reached his ears. A cup full of tea was put in front of him.

Blinking, Terry looked up to see who had offered him the cup.

It was the old man. A kind smile was on his face, as something that looked like grief crossed for a mere second.

For a moment Terry wanted to take the cup. But then he remembered that he didn’t know this man, and the fact that no one was telling him anything.

But still, Terry smiled and shook his head. “Thanks for offering, but no thank you.”

It was clear that the man was hiding his disappointment. Unfortunately for him Terry could be very stubborn.

Thankfully the man nodded and didn’t push it. Terry watched as he set the cup down with the rest of the tea set on the table next to the chair.

No one else got up to take a cup.

“You sure that’s all you remember?” It was the teen.

“Unless I remember something later, yes that’s pretty much it. Why? Did I black out and did some crazy things?” He asked that last part sarcastically.

Quickly, the Superman fan shook his head, waving his arms around. “Nope! We just want to make sure since you were pretty out of it last night, and slept through the whole morning!”

Terry just stared at him with half lidded eyes. Yeah okay. Totally not suspicious at all.

Rolling his eyes, Terry crossed his legs. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair and he held his head on his hand. “Okay, cool, I answered your question. _Now_ will you answer mine?”

He stared down the man in front of him, looking at him like Mr. Wayne does to a particularly irritating business man. When he spoke, he made his voice cold and hard. “Who are you and why are you all in the manor?”

A flicker of sadness crossed the man’s face.

Why was he sad?

Suspicious indeed.

“We-“ the man started only to get stopped by the man in the leather jacket.

“We’re new employees. And a package deal.” He said.

Oh that was a lie if Terry ever heard one.

Laughter began to bubble up deep within the teen. He let it out as small chuckles. He let it evolve to a full on, head thrown back, laughter. Shoulders were bouncing, his stomach was hurting. A few tears even developed. Wiping his eyes, Terry stood up.

He stared the man down. He walked up to the man. The man stared at him, looking a little disturbed. Only a little. But it was enough for Terry.

They knew who the bigger one was. But it was obviously Terry who held the room. And he gave the man a shark sharp grin. One that even the old man would approve of.

“Ya know, I think it’s rather insulting for how _dumb_ you think I am. I would _know_ if we got any new employees. And well? You’re certainly not a new employee.”

His arm shot out to take a hold of the man’s shirt. Quickly, he yanked the man down to his level. Rage twisted Terry’s face.

“Who the hell are you really?” He growled.

The man just put his hand on Terry’s. “Name’s Jason.” He said. His breath faintly smelt of cigarettes. Gross. “We’re actually tasked with watching you to make sure you’re okay. And you know, make sure you don’t get kidnapped again.”

A single eyebrow rose. “Is that so?” Terry asked.

The man, Jason, grinned. All teeth. “Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ as he slowly took Terry’s hand off of his shirt and stood back up. “You were just knocked out when the Commissioner asked us to do it. We just brought the squirt and his dog because he was being a brat.”

Terry let his hand fall to his side and… Terry thought about it. It does sound very plausible. It would explain how he couldn’t find Bruce… so far. For that last bit, Terry could help but think of Matt and if _they_ ever got a dog. He would probably do something similar. After all, how many chances could you get to live in a manor?

But…

“First of all, why you.” Terry poked sharply at Jason’s chest. “Second of all, is it actually _wise_ to bring your kid brother to a place where you’re supposed to be ‘protecting’ somebody?”

Jason shrugged. “Classified information.”

The teen’s eyebrow twitched. “You know, that doesn’t really help your case.” He drawled.

Again the man shrugged. “As for the kid, we don’t really trust him with anyone. Lord knows that demon brat’s going to maim someone the second we leave him alone.”

He could hear the kid scoff behind him and another person mumble the words ‘that’s an understatement.’ Turning behind him to look at who said that, he saw how the child and the hoodie wearing teen were glaring at each other.

Great. Terry is in vincisity of a murderous child. How fun.

Not.

So. Odds are they’re _probably_ telling the truth, but they’re hiding something. All of this was fishy as hell after all.

A heavy sigh escaped. “Fine!” He threw his arms up in exasperation. “You can stay here, but you _leave_ the moment that Spaceman gets put in prison.”

“Spaceman?” Jason asked.

Terry sent him an unimpressed look. “Dunno his name. Looks like some retro spaceman. So. Spaceman.” He then squinted at the man. “ _You_ wouldn’t happen to know who he is would you?”

A rather ungraceful snort was what he was met with. “Hell no. If we’d know who he was we would probably be out there kicking his ass.”

If Terry didn’t agree with that statement…

“Besides,” Jason continued, “I’m sure Red Hood would find him sooner or later anyways.”

Red Hood? Tilting his head in curiosity he asked, “who’s Red Hood?”

“The guy with the red helmet that saved you.”

What. Terry blinked rapidly. “Wait. Are you telling me that he’s called Red _Hood_? Like Little Red Riding Hood?”

Someone snickered in the background.

“Uh, yeah.” Jason said. The ‘duh’ was highly implied. “And _no_ not like Little Red Riding Hood.”

“But he wears a helmet? Not a hood?” Terry asked incredulously. “Who would name themselves Hood when they don’t even wear one? And how do _you_ know it’s not Red Riding Hood.”

At this Jason sputtered. “B-because it’s not! That man is a crime lord and has chopped drug dealers heads off!”

Some sort of strangled noise tore its way out of Terry’s mouth. “I was saved by a crime lord?!” He shouted, voice high pitched and cracking.

Suddenly, a hand clapped down onto Terry’s shoulder. Whirling around, he saw that it was the Superman fan.

“Sorry!” He yelped, pulling his hands up in the surrender gesture. “But uh, I _really_ don’t think now’s the time to talk about _ex_ crime lords.” The man stressed the ‘ex’ portion while glancing over to Jason.

“Lunch time.” The girl suddenly piped up.

On cue, Terry’s stomach growled. Loudly.

“Come on let's go.” The eldest brother began to drag Terry away.

He let himself be dragged.

_A crime lord though??? REALLY?????_

He really needs to talk to Bruce.


End file.
